Out in the Open
by Kierastarlight
Summary: AU, takes place somewhere after the midst of S6, small spoilers for S6. Dean is a ranch hand, taking a break from hunting while Sam is back at Stanford. Castiel has been missing for awhile, and Dean's wondering where he is. SLASH. Rated M for a reason.
1. Chapter 1

_A/N: This story will only be 3-4 chapters, I've already written the second chapter and most of the 3__rd__ already, so I don't plan to leave anyone hanging with this one. Stay tuned and hope you enjoy!_

Dean kicked his scuffed boots up to the railing of the porch and took a long swing of his beer in one graceful motion. His body ached but his mind was clear, peaceful, and he felt as if he could possibly do this forever. He no longer had to think, he no longer had to worry. When he looked up at the vast sky above him and the stars faintly in view early in the evening, he wondered what was going on in the world, but only for the sake of being grateful that he no longer needed to save it.

Technically, he still thought of Sam, but it wasn't in a worrisome, mother-hen type way. Sam was at Stanford, finally getting his degree. When Sam had announced that he wanted to finish school, it barely ruffled Dean's feathers. Ever since Sam spent an entire year not telling Dean he was alive, Dean realized that he and Sam just weren't on the same page anymore. Dean could have been perfectly content spending every moment of his life by his brother's side, but Sam wanted something else. A real life. Dean wasn't going to hold him back, and gave his blessing for Sam to go back to Stanford. He still drove to the nearest dustbowl town that he unaffectionately dubbed Timbuktu every other day where his cell phone received reception, and talked to him for at least an hour. Or rather, let Sam talk. Dean didn't have a whole lot to talk about himself.

Dean had decided that he didn't want to hunt without Sam, and resigned himself to a temporary job in Wyoming that allowed him room and board. He was a simple ranch hand. He was responsible for feeding the cattle in the mornings and helping keep the barn clean – which wasn't easy, considering how large the ranch was. But he was always done in the early evening, and could sit back and enjoy the silence and lack of grief, headaches, and stress in his life.

Except that wasn't necessarily true.

The fact that Dean hadn't seen Castiel in a long time wore on him. Dean didn't completely acknowledge Castiel's absence, because it was always _there._ Like breathing. Thoughts of Castiel enveloped Dean like Castiel's trench coat had enveloped Cas – softly, quietly, and pretty much constantly. Sometimes Dean swore that if he turned his head just slightly, Castiel would be there, his long coat swaying just slightly from his flight in. But he never was.

Shortly after Sam had gotten his soul back, Castiel disappeared from the face of the earth, and, heaven, Dean was afraid. He wondered more than once if the war in heaven had taken Castiel as a casualty. Castiel hadn't responded to Dean's pleas during Sam's more difficult moments of enduring his newly-replaced tortured soul, and Dean didn't think Castiel was enough of a dick to ignore him when Cas had been pretty concerned for Sam's state. Time went on and anger and frustration for Castiel's' absence wore away eventually to quiet concern.

Dean spent several months on the ranch, getting used to a life of solitude. The owners were private people, and he only saw them in the barn and once a week for a Sunday dinner. They never came down to his isolated cabin that was a half a mile away from the barn and a mile from the main house, and he liked it that way. He was given a stipend of sorts and an extra food allowance, and made himself quick hot dogs or hamburgers on his tiny cabin stove, or microwave dinners. He didn't need much other than food, beer, soda, and the occasional TV, which he could only see through the cabin's DVD player. He wondered occasionally what was going on with Dr. Sexy these days, but was okay with the fact that he would have to wait until the current season was released on DVD. He had driven to town once and picked up several seasons of Dr. Sexy and Star Trek Voyager, so he had plenty of TV to watch for now.

Dean found that he was actually content passing the time in the quiet evenings just relaxing on the porch and looking at the stars. The cool night air was always refreshing, and the fact that he didn't have to reflexively jump into action to save a life was intoxicating. Not that he wanted to live like this forever, being a hunter was as much a part of Dean Winchester as Sam was his reason to live and breathe, but for now, a vacation was exactly what he needed.

So, Dean relaxed, took it easy, and barely gave a care to the world during this respite. However, Dean couldn't deny though, that when he gazed at the stars languidly every night, that he was wondering if Castiel could possibly still be up there in the heavens.

Alone, Dean didn't feel the need to guard his thoughts. Without Sam around, he couldn't get paranoid that Sam could be reading his thoughts or sense what was going through Dean's mind. It didn't even occur to Dean that his thoughts were going places they would normally not go. Alone and uninhibited, he let his mind wander to wherever it wanted to take him.

Quite often, it was just happy memories of family. Of his mother when he was a boy, of his dad and Sam growing up. He tended to shy away from thoughts from when his father disappeared on – everything from that time forward till Sam finally was settled with his hell-bent soul - was a large shitfest that he wanted to distance himself from.

Except for his memories of Castiel. They warmed him just like the flush of alcohol every time he tipped his beer bottle. All kinds of memories, even the most subtle, small memories. Like how Cas sometimes had more stubble on his face than others. Dean couldn't help but wonder if Castiel magically shaved himself once a day with a thought, and then allowed it to grow for 24 hours.

Dean wondered more than once what that stubble would feel like against his own skin. The thought would haunt him sometimes, paired up with just generally missing the angel. He didn't even allow himself to think it was odd, because any thought of Cas was better than losing him forever. So his mind wandered to several past conversations and all the times Castiel sacrificed himself for Dean.

Dean was aware he was quite the dick to Cas there towards the end, constantly being demanding without much of a thank you, and he wished deeply he could tell Cas he was sorry. When he looked at the stars, though, he got this feeling that Castiel had somehow accepted his apology far off in the heavens.

So, peacefully and somewhat contentedly, with a small mixture of aching to see his long lost friend, Dean thought of Castiel often. There could never be a truer friend, of that Dean was certain.

Sometimes, he wished more deeply than others that he could see him one more time. Hell, several more times. But he dealt with it.

Alone, Dean found himself with the freedom to do things he normally would never do. This included lounging around in his underwear in on his one day off, reading library books he'd never dreamed he'd want to read a year ago, and then, one of his personal favorites, releasing himself in the wide open air.

Dean wasn't sure exactly when that habit got started. He could vaguely remember sitting on the porch, feeling tired from work yet relaxed at the thought that the day was done, and noticed how he had gone hard. Normally he would have either ignored it or stepped inside the cabin to quickly jack off. But that night, Dean realized there was no reason for him to move. No one ever came down to the cabin to see him, ever. So Dean had kicked back farther in his chair, unzipped his jeans, and pulled his erection out, and gave it exactly what it wanted, outside.

He didn't do it every night but it was becoming a common occurrence. Right along with wondering about and remembering Castiel, so even though it wasn't intentional, Dean _was _doing both at the same time. He didn't really think of Castiel sexually either while he did it. It was more of an emotional release, his need to see Castiel once again being satiated slightly by the rush of the orgasm.

So, one night when spring was getting closer to summer, and the smell of new growth and fresh air filled his senses, and he was noticing that his ice cold beer always tasted better right after a hard day's work, he was in a good mood, yet missing Castiel as usual. Lazily he unzipped his pants with anticipation, as if his own hand were a skilled lover. It was staying light out longer, so there was that element of a turn-on at the thought of getting caught. Not that he actually wanted to, the thought itself was a good enough turn on. He gently unsheathed his cock from his pants and briefs, and pet it once slowly, enjoying how smooth and strong it looked. He had to admit, it wasn't bad, and he bet women liked it a great deal. He started pumping it, leaning back and slightly closing his eyes so he could just concentrate on the sensations. He found himself randomly wondering if Castiel's vessel was well endowed at all, if it was circumcised, and if Castiel knew anything of the pleasure the organ had once treasured.

His thoughts wandered to if angels went anywhere when they died, and hoped that somehow heaven and earth could be moved if it were so, and he could see Castiel again, hear his gravelly voice, see the sincerity in his eyes every time he looked at Dean. Then he closed his eyes completely, and arched his back and pointed his cock outward, turned on at the thought of shooting his load into the open air. He used to make love to a sock, but one day he realized it was more enjoyable to release it onto the porch and wash it up later.

He sped up the tempo and bit his lip and cried "Oh fuck" when his dick was finally ready to explode. Then he looked with amusement to see how far he'd shot it, this was the farthest yet. He smiled and didn't get up right away to clean it up, sat and took a gulp of beer and sat their lazily sated for several minutes. Then when it was starting to shrink, he got up and sloshed a bucket of water over the porch. He finished the beer, standing there with his dick hanging in the wind, not caring in the slightest. Then he finally went inside and washed himself up.

He lay down on his bed and decided to read his library book. While he was lying there, he realized he'd been thinking of Castiel naked while jacking off. Not so much that it was turning him on, but he could see that it was uncharacteristic for him to think of another man in that way _at all _when he was getting off. He shrugged it off, telling himself it was mere curiosity, the same type that Dean had exhibited as a boy in public restrooms, wondering what men looked like down there when they grew up. And when he was older, wondering how he compared to other men. He figured everyone did it.

What was really hitting Dean, though, was the realization that every time he came, and really, it was _every fricken time_, at the moment of shudderingly delicious orgasm, he thought of Castiel looking intently at Dean, his eyes touching Dean's soul in a way nothing else could. Nothing made Dean come harder, not even his favorite fantasies of Busty Asian Babes.

Dean shrugged again and tried to read the book. He figured, what did it matter if he did? No one would ever know. He sure as hell wasn't going to tell Sam or Bobby, and Castiel was probably dead, so he'd never know either.

So, somehow it became a habit. He was increasingly more aware each time he jacked off that Castiel was on his mind. It was no longer a shadow, more of a forefront and that didn't stop him from building up to release with thoughts of Castiel coming back to life and coming to see Dean. He refused to see this as gay; rather, he considered it a rare guilty pleasure that would only be known to himself. He associated his orgasm with that longing for a long lost friend being fulfilled.

This didn't actually make him feel better, though. He started feeling worse. He ached for Castiel's presence more consciously now, and one time when he was on the phone with Sam, listening to him ramble on about a research project that was being a major pain in the ass, he interrupted with, "I miss Cas," out of the blue.

Sam, surprised, stammered out that he missed Castiel too, and Dean said, "If I even knew what happened to him, it would be better. But I don't know jack shit on what happened to one of my best friends in the world."

Sam agreed, and they even reminisced together about some of Castiel's more charming traits. Then Sam suggested asking Bobby if there was a spell for finding an angel's location.

Dean was eager to hang up then and find out immediately. He called Bobby and was let down when Bobby asked if he had anything belonging to Castiel.

"The only thing Cas owns, Bobby, is that damn coat of his. I don't have squat."

"Then I'm afraid I can't help you. Sorry Dean. I miss him too, Dean. He was a good guy."

Dean went home and later, shot up out his bed, realizing that perhaps he did have something belonging to Cas. Sort of.

He drove all the way back to Timbuktu so he could call Bobby at midnight and ask if there was a solution after all. "I've still got the scar on my shoulder he gave me, and then there is the engraving on my ribs. He gave me both, so it's like there's a piece of him there. Can you do it with those?"

"Hell, no, Dean!" Bobby said, sounding grumpy from being woken up. "I have to set the item or items on fire with holy oil for the spell to work, and one, I don't have any holy oil, and two, I'm not setting you on fire, Dean, not on your shoulder, not on your chest, not anywhere!"

Dean tried to argue that he could probably endure it on his shoulder for a short time, and when Bobby said "for a half an hour? Because it might take that long, or longer! Forget it Dean, I refuse," Dean realized dejectedly that it was hopeless.

"I'll cut a piece of my scar off and send it to you in the mail, if that's what it takes," Dean said with one last ounce of hope. "You can set that on fire."

"Oh for god's sake, I hope not! I don't want you going all Van Gogh on me here! Besides, you'd have to cut the entire scar off and I sure as hell don't want that. Forget it Dean!" Bobby tried to spend the next several minutes consoling Dean, and invited him to come for a visit this summer, and they eventually hung up and Dean realized he didn't want to cut the scar off anyway. It was a reminder of his bond with Castiel, and Dean felt if there was an ugly hole there instead, it would be a reminder of how Castiel was no longer there. He'd rather have the reminder of their bond.

So Dean slowly went back to quiet acceptance of the fact that Castiel was gone. It wasn't easy for Dean, because he was so used to getting what he wanted, no matter what it was. Impossible wasn't in Dean Winchester's vocabulary. It didn't matter if Sam was dead or the world was coming to an end, Dean found some way to bring things back full circle.

But he forced himself to face reality this time. Part of it was he really was done with living that life of extreme ups and downs, life and death meshing into a painful blur of several heartaches. He told himself that if he accepted Castiel's absence, he'd be better off. Which was partially true.

So, he went back to the quiet, relaxing life. He worked hard during the day and enjoyed having no responsibilities in the evenings. Not having to answer to anyone, not having to explain himself to anyone. Being able to come desperately on his porch as the sun was coming down and the stars were coming out. Wondering if Castiel somehow knew he was thinking of him.

It was June and almost time for Dean to quit the ranch job and go on his summer hunting stint with Sam. He was looking forward to it, both the hunting and seeing Sam. He realized the carefree days of jacking off without restraint on his private porch were going to be over, but he only felt remorse that his weird connection (in his head) with Castiel would be gone. Jacking off in the bathroom with Sam in the next room just wouldn't be the same.

Dean undid his pants on a comfortably warm night with bittersweet anticipation that it would be one of the last times to do this in a long time, and worked himself easily to a plateau of pleasure that he maintained and enjoyed for about two minutes, before bursting at the seams with cum. He opened his eyes eventually with practical thoughts about his need to clean up, when he saw Castiel right in front of him. He blinked. And blinked again.

He'd just had a mind-shattering orgasm, but it was the furthest thing from Dean's mind at the moment.


	2. Chapter 2

"Cas?" Dean croaked out weakly. "Cas is that you?" He was so afraid he would wake up and find it was a dream, he didn't know what to do. He was forgetting to breathe. Or avoiding breathing, as if one breath would burst a bubble and make Castiel disappear.

"Oh holy fuck Cas, are you really here?" Dean eventually said with such longing he was ashamed of himself.

Castiel smiled faintly, and stepped closer, onto the porch. Dean registered in his mind that there was something wrong with the picture, like in those puzzles he used to do as a kid. Something was missing, and it was Castiel's trench coat. And tie. Instead, he was wearing jeans, a belt buckle, and a t-shirt with some logo on it that Dean didn't recognize. The t-shirt fit him snuggly, and Dean realized he looked really good. It wasn't just that he was really glad to see him. Castiel looked larger than life, yet somehow small and vulnerable at the same time.

"I'm here, Dean," Cas said, and a dam broke inside Dean, hearing that voice he'd been waiting to hear for so long, saying his name. He rushed forward and melted into a tight embrace with Castiel, completely forgetting for a minute that his dick was hanging out and sticky.

His face brushed against the small amount of stubble on Castiel's face and Dean was hit with a deep, fulfilling feeling that he'd come home. Like destiny was wrapped up in that one small sensation he'd had hovering around in his mind all spring. Overwhelmed, he hugged Castiel tighter and had to fight down the urge to kiss him. He was just way, way too happy.

Castiel eventually stepped back with a little laugh. It was reserved, like the typical Castiel, and then he broke out in a wide grin, which Dean had never seen before, other than from future Cas. Castiel looked down, and said, "I was hoping for this kind of reaction from you, well, the hug, yes, but didn't realize I'd get this lucky." He continued to look at Dean warmly, which Dean was reveling in with extreme glee, until he realized he was exposed and still hard.

"Holy shit," Dean said, reflexively stepping back and covering himself with his hand. Then he turned around and zipped his pants back up as quickly as he could without getting himself bitten by the zipper. He turned back around and wiped his hands on his jeans. "Sorry Cas. Sorry if I grossed you out. I just…"

"No need to apologize, Dean," said Castiel. "I've become well aware of the male body's biological needs." Dean was surprised and was hit again with the sensation that something was wrong with this picture. It wasn't just that Castiel looked different, or had smiled like a real person. Castiel's statement right there was a clue that something was up. "What do you mean, Cas?" Dean offered him a chair and sat back down on his own. "Where the hell have you been? God dammit Cas, do you have any idea how much I've missed you? I thought you were dead." His voice was thick with emotion, and Dean stopped himself from thinking he was acting too much like a girl. Fuck it. Castiel just came back.

"I'm no longer an angel," Castiel said, and Dean felt as if his stomach and bowels were freezing. "You're – human?" Dean said thickly. Castiel might as well be telling him he was dead. He immediately felt a sense of loss over the fact that Castiel had lost his angelhood.

"Yes," Castiel said, and proceeded to tell him grimly about several events in heaven that led to his eventual fall from grace. Dean's heart ached for him as he listened. "Are you going to be okay, Cas? Oh my god. I can't believe this is happening. You're human."

"I've adjusted," Castiel said.

"Why the hell didn't you call? Where did you land on earth? Why did you take so long to get to me?" Dean asked demandingly, and Castiel sighed.

"I awoke in Texas. I had mild amnesia at first, and didn't remember much of anything. I thought the war in heaven was some vague dream and that I was crazy. After about a month I could remember everything, but I was still homeless and had no way of contacting you, not right away."

Castiel looked down. "I was pretty – unsettled then. I wasn't adjusting well to my new situation, and even though I thought of contacting you, I didn't want to be a burden on you, and I was ashamed. Call it a bruised ego or whatever, but I wasn't sure I wanted my friends to see me in that state."

"A burden?" Dean cried out. "Cas, friends take care of each other. You shouldn't be worrying about being a burden to me or any of us. You needed help. I can't believe you didn't call me!"

"Oh, really Dean?" Castiel said with a slight sting to his voice. "I can recall more than one time in the past where when I asked for your help, you treated me like I was a nuisance. But besides that fact, I was too emotionally fragile at that time to be dealing with your bristly nature."

"What?" Dean said. "I've been sitting here reminiscing about the good times we've had, and all you can think about when it comes to me are me being a jerk? I can't believe after all we've been through, that's what you remember about me! Thanks a lot, Cas!"

Castiel rolled his eyes. "Dean," he said scolding, "My memory came back in pieces. The first thing I was remembering about you was how demanding you were when I was trying to fight the war in heaven. You had no concern for me, just yourself."

Dean tried to spit out a response, but realized Castiel was right. He thought back to how he had wanted to tell Castiel he was sorry about those times. "Hey, Cas, I'm actually really sorry about that. I really mean it. I wanted to tell you several times, if you'd been here to hear it. So, so what it's worth, sorry for being a self-centered jerk. I was just, under a lot of pressure, with Sam gone soulless on me, you know?"

"I know," Castiel said gently, with such sincerity in his eyes and voice, it effected Dean from the top of his head to the tip of his toes. His cock jerked a little, and he blushed, remembering this was exactly what he'd been getting off on for the past several months. Suddenly horrified that Castiel could somehow read his mind, he looked down.

"What's wrong, Dean?" Castiel asked.

"Nothing, Cas," Dean mumbled. "Can I get you something to drink?"

"Like I believe you, Dean."

"Drop the subject, Cas," Dean said angrily.

"Suit yourself Dean. I haven't done anything wrong. I don't know why you're so offended that I asked if you were okay. I was really excited to see you again, but I figured all you'd want to do is argue and put up a wall, as usual." Castiel stood up, pulled Dean out of his chair and made Dean look into his eyes. "I worked my butt off at some filthy fast-food joint for minimum wage for over a month, sleeping at various homeless shelters, and saved up enough money to buy a Greyhound bus ticket to come up here and see you." He leaned in real close, just like the time in Bobby's kitchen in the wee hours of the night. "The least you could do is show a little gratitude." Respect, gratitude, Castiel was always wanting something, Dean joked to himself.

Dean became overwhelmed with the desire to lean in and kiss Castiel hard, to feel that stubble again against his own face, and he flinched, confused by his thoughts. Mentally saying "What the fuck?" to himself, he backed away.

"Jesus, Castiel, take it easy, I said I was glad to see you, you have no idea how glad I am to see you! Other than this silly bickering about nothing, I'm on top of the world right now! I kid you not! You're fucking alive! You're not dead, and you're here talking to me right now, and you have no flipping idea how much that means to me, Cas!"

Castiel smiled. "You're repeating yourself," and laughed a little. "But it makes me very happy to hear you say that. I've missed you too much, Dean Winchester." Then, repeating Dean, "You have no idea."

"I think I do," Dean said softly, and then realizing the awkwardness of the moment, or rather the awkwardness of the rush he felt from hearing Castiel say that statement, and the fact that his cock was still hard as a rock. He said, "Come on inside, Cas, I need another beer. Come have one with me. And tell me why you didn't call and have me come get you, once you came to your senses."

Inside, Dean sat down on the small sofa, and Castiel sat down on an armchair. Castiel told him of his experience. He didn't know Dean's phone number by heart, because Sam had set it on speed dial for him, and Castiel lost his cell phone ages ago when he was still an angel. It finally occurred to him as he was getting his memory back that he could look up Bobby in South Dakota on the internet, and he found him in the white pages. He called Bobby and asked him where Dean was. Bobby told him Dean was taking some time off working at a ranch, and gave him directions, and Dean's phone number, but Castiel asked Bobby not to say anything to Dean, that he was planning on saving some money to go up and surprise him.

Bobby offered him money to come up right away, but Castiel denied it, saying he wanted to take the time to save up the money.

Dean was ready to growl and he stood up, angry. "I need to give him a piece of my mind! First with Sam, and then now with you! What the hell kind of friend is he to keep the fact that both of you were alive from me?" Dean looked ready to hit something.

"Settle down, Dean. I told him I would see you as soon as possible. And I could tell he was antsy about keeping it a secret."

"How long did he know?" Dean hissed, thinking of the night he called Bobby in desperation for a spell to bring Castiel back.

"A little over a month, Dean. That's it. And," he gave Dean another warm look. "I was touched that you were willing to burn your skin for me. Really, I was."

"What!" Dean yelled. "He told you about that!" Dean didn't know what made him madder, that, or the fact that Bobby _knew _Castiel was okay when they were having that conversation on the phone. He stormed out the door, stepping into the cool, dark air.

Castiel chased after him. "Dean," he said, jumping in front of him while Dean paced. "Please don't be hard on him. He was anxious about keeping me a secret in the first place. When you called him about a spell, he called me right afterwards and said that I'd better hurry the hell up and get to Dean, because he's willing to burn his skin off with holy fire just to see me."

"That doesn't make me feel any better," Dean said sorely, but then when he envisioned that phone call to Cas, he had to laugh. "Okay, never mind Bobby. Why on earth didn't you take his money to come see me?" Dean thought of all the longing to see Castiel in the last month, and how it didn't need to happen, because Castiel could have been here a month ago. He folded his arms and regarded Castiel angrily.

"Dean, I wanted to see you, believe me, but I also wanted to have some experience being a human, on my own, without yours or Sam's or Bobby's influence. No offense, I just needed to do that for myself before I came to see you. I'll tell you about it sometime. Please, stop being angry. I'm here right now."

Dean unfolded his arms. "Alright, I'll give you that. I can understand needing some time. Okay, let's go back in and get a snack. I still can't believe you're human, are you hungry?"


	3. Chapter 3

_A/N: Looks like there will be four chapters total. This one only touches on Castiel's time away in Texas, hoping to get into more detail in the next/last chapter._

Back in the cabin, Dean calmed down once he had half another beer and listened for awhile to Castiel describe his adventures with tasting different foods for the first time. Castiel realized he really liked pizza, but couldn't stand shrimp, he enjoyed chocolate ice cream, but thought strawberry ice cream was bland. He discovered he liked salt, on chicken particularly, but was puzzled that it didn't taste good on some other things, like chocolate chip cookies.

Dean enjoyed a nice underlying buzz of happiness just hearing Castiel talk about all his surprises with human life. His cock had finally fizzled out, and that took a huge edge off his anxiety – Dean Winchester was not cool with having a hard on for a man – well, not when he was in the same room with him.

Dean did wonder if Castiel was having any trouble adjusting to being human, but Castiel didn't seem to be phased as he talked about one random thing after another.

Dean also talked to Castiel about his everyday life here at the ranch, telling him things he'd never even bothered to tell Sam, like every detail of his chores and how thoroughly sick and tired he was getting of cow shit. He was more than ready to move on with his life.

"Speaking of that unpleasant topic, you wouldn't believe my reaction to having to –"

"I don't think I want to hear this," Dean interrupted.

"I just had to hear about your wild escapades with cow shit. Let me tell you my story. It's funny, and I'll spare you the intimate details. Which you didn't do for me, by the way."

Dean laughed heartily.

"I had eaten quite a bit of food, and realized there was pressure, uh, down below. I was still coming out of the amnesia, so I wasn't able to access my knowledge of bodily functions."

"Oh God. Please don't tell me you went in your pants. I so don't want to hear this."

"No, quite the opposite. I went around uncertain about what to do, and finally went into a free clinic to see a doctor. When I explained my problem, at first the doctor looked at me like I was a drug addict and was ready to ship me out the door for being a fool. Then he saw my utter helplessness in my eyes, and I explained about my memory loss and he was more compassionate after that, although the look on his face when he realized he might have to potty train a grown man was priceless."

"Oh, god. Did he have to –"

"He didn't have to help me, if that's what you're worried about. He gave me brief instructions and sent me into a restroom. I'm still not over the fact that I have to deal with waste removal from this body on a regular basis. It's rather messy –"

Dean closed his eyes and waved his hand. "Cas, we are changing the subject, _now._"

"But Dean, we were just talking about cow –"

"Which was a mistake. Shut up already!"

"But who am I supposed to talk to about it, if not you?"

Dean leaned over and laid a hand on Castiel's shoulder. "Dude, here's a lesson about being human. You do _not _talk to your friends or family about your bathroom visits. We don't discuss it with anyone else. Accept a doctor. Now, tell me about something else already."

Castiel went on to discuss just about everything else, from the weather in Texas that made him sweat to the cockroaches at the fast food joint where he worked that repulsed him terribly. When the both of them were getting sleepy, Dean looked at the sleeping arrangements and said, "I guess I'll take the couch, so you can have the bed."

Castiel nodded a thank you towards Dean. "So how do you sleep?" Dean asked him.

"With my eyes closed," Castiel answered.

Dean snorted. "No, silly. Do you sleep okay?"

"Oh yes. I sleep fine. Thanks for asking."

After making sure Castiel was comfortable, Dean scrunched up on the tiny sofa, his knees bent, and drifted off into a happy sleep, content that his friend was alive and back in his life.

/DC/DC\DC/DC\DC/DC\DC/DC/DC\

Castiel and Dean fell into an easy, relaxed routine the next several days. Castiel offered to help Dean with his chores, which meant they were done with the day earlier, and then they were free to do what they wanted. They would go for walks along the dirt road near the cabin and enjoy the mountain scenery, they would drive into Timbuktu and pick up new library books or eat at a greasy diner, Castiel trying something new every time, but mostly they hung out and talked at Dean's cabin.

One night they were sloshed more than usual and Dean coerced Castiel into a pissing contest, to see who could aim the farthest. They stepped out onto the dusty road next to the cabin and unsheathed themselves for the act. Dean couldn't help but look out of curiosity, and was surprised to see Castiel was pretty well endowed, and was definitely circumcised. Being too drunk to think straight, Dean said, "I thought so."

"You thought so what?" Castiel asked.

They finished pissing and Dean won the contest by about two inches. "I thought you'd be circumcised. And maybe even well-endowed. I guessed right."

Castiel turned to face him. "Dean, do you realize what you just said?"

"What?" Dean said stupidly, barely aware of the conversation in the first place.

"You've been thinking about my cock. Dean Winchester has been thinking about _my _cock. I am surprised."

"Where did you learn a word like _cock_?"

"Probably from you, Dean. You've been known to say all kinds of colorful phrases. Such as, 'Blow me, Cas'"

"Hey, you weren't supposed to take that literally," Dean slurred.

Castiel stepped closer, was right in Dean's face. Dean could smell the beer on his breath. "What if I had, Dean?" he asked with a glint in his eye.

Dean felt a tingle again, felt hot under the collar and uncertain on how to answer. Usually he would say something like 'bite me' but Dean was getting a pleasant rise and it surprised him. Did Castiel _want_ to blow him? Why was he even curious about it? He looked down and saw that Castiel had a large bulge in his pants. He blurted out without thinking, "Dude, you have a hard-on. Why do you have a hard-on?"

Castiel gripped Dean's shoulder. "Let's go inside and play scrabble, Dean."

Dean soon forgot their conversation inside, where the scrabble board and letters became an excuse for a huge giggle-fest. They weren't really playing the game, but trying to come up with silly words. Dean wanted to spell the word brassiere but realized he had no idea how to spell it, and was putting down 'brazeere', Castiel spelled 'underwear' and then Dean wanted to spell more words with the letter 'u' and was putting down 'unicycle', 'unicorn', and 'ugly'. Then Castiel wanted to spell 'urine', but there were only 4 letter u's in the entire scrabble set, so Castiel tried to steal Dean's u off of unicorn.

"Give that back, Cas."

"No."

Dean tried to swipe it off the scrabble board, but Castiel grabbed it first and turned his back to Dean, protecting the tile. Dean lunged after him and the next thing he knew they were wrestling on the floor, Dean trying to pry the tile out of Castiel's hand. He tickled Castiel a little, making him giggle hard, which made Dean feel really happy at the sound. Then he went back to trying to get the tile, and found himself laying on top of Castiel, chest on chest, and practically face on face as he stretched upward to try and get the tile that Cas was holding above his head. Dean was hit again with an intense impulse to kiss Castiel right there, but couldn't imagine acting on it. Then he realized that one erection was rubbing up against another, and he jumped back, forgetting all about the tile. He stood up and sat down on the couch.

"What, don't you want it?" Castiel asked.

"The tile? No. I'm done playing keep away for the night," Dean said, sounding much more sober than he had minutes ago. "I think it's time for bed." Dean settled in on the couch and covered himself with a blanket.

Castiel got up and turned off the light. He climbed into Dean's bed. "Goodnight, Dean," he said.

Dean mumbled goodnight, and sat there in the dark, painfully aware of his erection. He felt as if he'd better clear things up right away, so he could actually get to sleep tonight.

"Hey Cas? I hope I'm not giving you the wrong idea."

Castiel didn't say anything, but the bedsprings creaked and then suddenly the light was back on in the room. Dean shielded his eyes. He regretted opening his mouth.

"And what exactly, is the wrong idea?" Castiel asked.

"Hey, forget it," Dean said, looking away. "I think you're getting the wrong idea right now."

"Which means?" Castiel sounded like this was a topic he wasn't going to let go of until it was sorted out.

Castiel was on the armchair, but he moved closer, sat down on the tiny edge of the loveseat holding Dean's feet.

"What the hell are you doing, Cas?" Dean asked sharply.

"Talking about this _idea _I'm supposedly not supposed to have. Could you clarify that for me, Dean?" Castiel leaned in closer. Dean started at his stubble for a moment, briefly mesmerized, and then snapped back to attention.

"Are you going to ask me for some respect, while you're at it? Because you're certainly in my face."

"I'm not leaving till you clarify what we're talking about."

"Fine, if you want me to spell it out, I'm not…I'm not _into _you Cas. I didn't mean to be rubbing sticks back over there, and I'm sorry. That's all and that's it. Now, if you're going to be all over the couch, I'm going to sleep on the bed."

Castiel grabbed his hand before he could move. "Hey!" Dean cried.

Castiel leaned in even closer. "Do you know what I miss most about being an angel?" Castiel whispered.

Castiel was so close he could smell his breath, feel its temperature. Dean shrank from the warm feeling it gave his groin and his chest. "What, Cas?" he said in an annoyed tone. "Singing Kumbayah up in the clouds?"

"I missed being able to sense that you needed me. For anything. Down in Texas, it bothered me greatly that I could never sense anymore if you needed me."

Dean stalled for a moment, surprised. "Um, I don't know if I should be flattered, or completely creeped out." It was the truth. Dean was inwardly kicking himself for feeling a slight thrill at what Castiel had just said. "Seriously, you didn't miss being a one million watt light bulb instead? Having super powers?"

Ignoring Dean's questions, Castiel said, "But now, I can sense that you need me. Nothing you tell me will convince me otherwise. When will you admit that you need me, Dean Winchester?" Castiel was seductively eyeing Dean, not only in the eyes, but his telltale lap as well.

Dean covered his erection. "Dammit, Cas! I told you that was nothing! Am I ever sorry I opened my mouth. I should have realized you have no clue on how to avoid awkward conversations, like _this_ one.

"Dean, you can sit there and tell me all you want that you are not longing for me, but I can feel it just as well as when I could sense your need from afar. I know I am not mistaken." He leaned in closer to Dean's ear, his stubble scratching against his own. Dean nearly jumped at the effect it had on him. It felt like warm, perfect comfort mixed with electrifying stimulation. It took all of Dean's willpower to keep from grabbing Castiel, and holding his face next to his, cheek to cheek.

"Deny it all you want, Dean. It doesn't change anything other than we have to sit here pretending it's not happening."

"Fuck off, Cas," Dean said, without much confidence. "You don't know what you're talking about."

Castiel slid back into the bed after turning off the lights. "Goodnight, Dean," he said.


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: Finally! So sorry on the long wait – worked at my job way too much in one month, and whenever I did get to writing this chapter, I'd have to either stop to go to work or needed to go to sleep. And I wrote so many drafts of this chapter I can't believe it - never have re-written a chapter so much before. So it's not quite exactly what I envisioned for it, but I'm much more satisfied with it than the other drafts. I hope it's enjoyable, and thanks so much for reading!**

Both men were quiet the next day. Not a 'hello' during breakfast, not an "are you ready to go" when it was time to go to work in the barns. The only attempt of communication was Castiel shooting Dean an angry glare that could have peeled paint off the walls, it was so sharp. Yet, Dean couldn't bring himself to speak up at all, because if he did, he was afraid it would lead to the subject they had been tiptoeing around all day.

Finally, after a silent dinner, Castiel said, "Dean, can you take me to the bus station? I think it's time for me to go."

Dean didn't like the way that statement was making his heart sink down like an elevator with a broken cable. However, he realized it was the natural course of action; he did tell Castiel after all that he wasn't interested - not that it was exactly true, now that Dean had had all day to think about it.

"So soon?' Was all Dean was able to say. But it came straight from his heart.

Castiel looked as if he could read the sincerity in Dean's voice. His hardened face softened, and he leaned over and put his hand on Dean's shoulder.

The touch was electric. Dean had to take a deep breath to absorb it. All day his entire body – his entire being, had been aching to touch Castiel, but he had stubbornly refused to let that happen.

"Dean," Castiel said, softly, "I'm tired of holding back. You say you aren't attracted to me in that way, but the tension in the room is thick. I can feel your need for me just as well as I can feel my own need for you. If we are not to act on this, I should be going. It would be more comfortable for me. Probably for you, too."

"I don't feel comfortable at all about you leaving," Dean mumbled.

Castiel surprised Dean by smiling. "You're actually really cute when you're vulnerable," he said. "It's not a side of you I get to see often."

Dean wanted to bristle and tell him it wasn't a side he would see often at all, but Dean resisted his desire to put up more walls. Which left him at a loss of what to do next. He both wanted and _didn't_ want something to happen, at the same time.

Castiel moved in, and placed his lips on Dean's. He kissed him briefly, and Dean felt the delicious combination of soft lips and scratchy stubble against his own. Even more delicious was the rush spreading through his entire body. Castiel said, "I think you're waiting for me to take some action, because you have trouble taking the first step. Tell me if I'm wrong." Even if Dean had wanted to answer, it would have been impossible for the next few minutes, because Castiel kissed Dean again, deeply, with the occasional tongue and fond kisses on various places on Dean's face.

Paralyzed with amazement with how good he was feeling, Dean didn't do much other than kiss back when Castiel's lips were on his, and groan when Castiel was nibbling Dean's neck and ears. Finally Castiel pulled away – and he was practically sitting on Dean's lap at this point – and looked at Dean expectantly.

"Please don't stop kissing me," Dean begged. "But how on earth did you learn all this stuff? The Pizza Man?"

Castiel smiled and said, "No, down in Texas." Then he started kissing Dean's forehead and eyelids before heading back to Dean's lips.

"Wait," Dean said, putting up his hand. "Who – who were you kissing in Texas?"

"A whore," Castiel said, and then placed his arms around Dean and kissed Dean deeply. Dean responded in kind for a moment, wrapping his arms around Castiel and wondered why it had taken him so long to get to this moment. It felt like heaven.

After satiating his desire for a few more minutes, Dean said, "So you finally managed to hook up with a whore, Cas! I'm proud of you. But if you learned all this in one session, I'd say you're a quick learner…"

"No, not one session. I hired him for several sessions." Castiel started kissing Dean again, but Dean pulled away.

"_Him_? You hired a _male_ whore? Are you gay, Cas? And you've already been with a man?" Dean felt deep disappointment, although he couldn't sort out why at the moment.

"Well, I am here kissing a man," Castiel pointed out. "But I didn't hire a male whore because I am 'gay', per-se. I hired him, well, because I wanted to learn."

"Learn what?" Dean asked, slightly angry. He still couldn't put his finger on exactly what he was feeling, but jealousy was definitely part of the picture.

"Why are you angry, Dean?" Castiel asked.

"No, I asked you first. What did you want to learn?"

Castiel looked down shyly. "I wanted some self-confidence and some know-how about relationships. I wanted to know the best ways to please a man, as well. Sexually, of course."

"Why?' Dean asked stupidly.

"So I would know how to please you, Dean, if it ever came up. And by 'it' I don't mean your penis, I mean if the opportunity came up – of course if the opportunity came up, I assume your penis would come up as well…"

Dean laughed nervously. "Jesus, Cas, you really were thinking about – _this _– while down in Texas? How could you know we'd ever – ah – do things like that together? I'm not exactly gay." At the same time, Dean couldn't help but make a mental note that his cock was most definitely 'up' at the moment. Which was pretty damn gay.

"I didn't know. But I figured I'd better be prepared. I think if I'd come up here as my old self, you could have easily pushed me over and we never would have gone anywhere. But I thought maybe if came prepared, I'd have more of a chance."

"Of what?' Dean was dying to kiss Castiel again. He leaned in tentatively and Castiel met him with another languid kiss. Then Dean asked, "I'm trying to figure out what you were plotting down there in Texas. To be in a relationship with me? To screw my brains out? What?" Dean's heart fluttered – at both.

"I wasn't plotting, Dean. I knew there was a great chance you wouldn't be interested. I would never want to have something that was against your will. But I thought, if I had been right about our bond, and the way I feel about you were to reach any kind of fruition, I wanted to be prepared. Not only for myself, but for you."

"Let's quit talking," Dean said, overwhelmed. All he wanted at the moment was to feel Cas all over him again. They clutched each other and kissed, Castiel practically falling on top of Dean as Dean leaned over on the couch. They continued to kiss like that, with Castiel lying on Dean's chest, time having stopped as far as Dean was concerned.

Later, Dean pushed at Castiel and said, "I need a drink of water." Castiel moved and Dean got up, walked to the sink and got a glassful. He gulped it down and walked back to the sofa and Castiel asked, "Are you not liking what we have been doing?" Castiel asked.

"I like it," Dean said. "I mean, look at me," he said, pointing to his enthusiastically erect cock. "That doesn't mean I'm ready to take a plunge into the realm of man-on-man sex. It still weirds me out. So, I'm not sure what we're going to do here. You may be dying to fuck my brains out, but I'm not ready to make the leap."

"Want to keep kissing?' Castiel asked coyly.

Dean nodded hard. They were back into each other's arms, Dean feeling safe from the entire world there. Except from his own fears. He wished they'd go away, or something. This kissing felt so good, it would be great to move forward – but was uncertain about the whole thing. He was hesitant to take the next step, it was such uncharted territory for Dean. He realized that was why he was disappointed Castiel had been with another man. Dean wished they'd had the opportunity for them to explore uncharted territory together. But here he was doing things with Cas, and _Ca_s was the one more experience. It was so ironic, Dean snorted.

"What?" Castiel asked. "What are you thinking?"

"I'm like the virgin, here. I still can't believe you've already done things with a man."

"I didn't do a whole lot," Castiel said to reassure him. "I saved certain things for you."

"Um, you did?" Dean said. He was surprised by the rush of pleasure he felt, even though he was nervous about even the _thought_ of acting on these certain _things_.

"Maybe we're moving too fast," Dean said, jumping up. He paced, wishing he could remove himself from the trap he felt he was in. "I can't just jump into sex with you, Cas, it feels too weird."

"But I never said we had to, Dean," Castiel said. "I thought we were going to just kiss."

"Yeah, well this kissing and stuff is turning me on something fierce. Let's just take a breather, okay?"

"I understand," Castiel said, and got up. Dean noticed Castiel's erection pressing against his tight jeans, which didn't help the matter at all. Dean looked away. "Let's have ice cream or something."

"I like chocolate," Castiel said, and Dean laughed. "I know. You told me. That's why I got some at the store, remember?"

Dean dished out a couple bowls of ice cream, and Castiel respectively sat on the armchair when Dean sat back on the sofa. "So, tell me more about Texas. Um, leave out the whore part, though."

"Texas is very warm," Castiel said.

Dean laughed. "That it is. What else?"

"The alleyways of the city were really dirty. No one should have to live in those conditions."

This thought sobered Dean considerably. "You were really homeless, Cas?"

"Yes. For about three days. Then someone told me about a free clinic, and the doctor who treated me told me about the homeless shelter. From there, I was told how to find a job, and once I got a paycheck, I made a down payment on a studio apartment."

Castiel continued to tell Dean various things about his time in Texas, a lot of it being a repeat of what Dean had already heard. But Dean didn't mind. He sat there enjoying the sound of Castiel's voice, his attractive innocence, and of course, the view. Dean was fully aware now that Castiel was drop-dead gorgeous.

They finished their ice cream, and then played a few games of cards. Dean felt happy, as long as he didn't think too hard about what was going on between the two of them. For now, he was glad Cas wasn't leaving. And he was glad as hell that Castiel could no longer disappear at the blink of an eye, but he felt like a traitor for thinking so.

Bedtime approached, and Dean took the couch. "Do you want to sleep with me, Dean?" Castiel asked, as he climbed into bed.

"Let's take this one step at a time, Cas," Dean said. He came over and kissed Castiel on the lips. "Goodnight. See you in the morning."

DC/DC/DC/DC/DC/DC/DC/DC

The next morning, they kissed and nuzzled each other briefly, before Dean broke away to make breakfast. Then they walked to the closest barn to begin their chores.

Dean pushed himself a little harder than usual, anxious to get away from cows and the stink. Dean looked across the way at Castiel once while he was sweeping up and saw that Castiel's shirt was more sweat stained than Dean's. Great, Dean thought. He'll probably get first dibs on the shower. As grateful as he was to have Castiel around, sitting around waiting for his turn in the shower, while smelling like shit, wasn't any fun. Dean started considering what it would be like for them to take a shower _together_ – and cut himself off when his cock started twitching. He went back to his task, thinking about Sam, and wondering which plaid shirt he'd be wearing when they met up again.

For a few seconds, anyway. Then he was back to thinking about Castiel. Dean looked up again, anxious to see his face.

Castiel had taken his shirt off. Sweat glistened on his perfectly smooth back and chest. And his abs was pressed tight against that huge silver belt buckle that he was wearing with his jeans. Not only that, his hair was slightly mussed, sweat weighing down some locks, others flying every which way, and goddamn it, he looked like a fucking _stud_. He also realized that Castiel's profile was perfect. As if his beautifully straight nose and sensually wide lips weren't enough, his eyes were so strikingly gorgeous it was starting to hurt when Dean realized he needed to look away. Because Castiel caught him staring. Dean looked down and worked even harder, trying to keep his cock from flushing with warmth. Unsuccessfully.

Flustered, Dean went back to his job, working faster in the hope that he could leave early and maybe even relieve some _stress_ alone in the bathroom. He still had this idea in his head that he wasn't going to be doing things with Cas _yet_, but he was having a really hard time convincing himself of that. He worked for about a half hour, decided he was done for the day, if they wanted to fire him, so be it. He threw down his shovel and rushed out of the barn before he realized that Castiel hadn't even been in sight when Dean had left. Dean figured he might have been bent over in one of the cow stalls, which brought up an image that had Dean's cock stiffening even more painfully.

He walked swiftly back to the cabin, and was about to step into the shower when there was a knock on the door.

"Just a minute," Dean said, and threw on the brown robe that was hanging on the door.

He opened it and Cas was standing there with a full-on erection himself. "If you're going to use the shower, I'd like to use the toilet first."

Dean waved his hand towards the toilet, and walked out into the main room. He sat down, and thought about what he was about to do.

He was about to jack off in the shower, when he and Cas were horny as hell, for _each other_. None of this made sense to Dean, despite his nerves over touching and doing things to another man's body parts. _Fuck it_, Dean thought. _I want Cas and Cas wants me, so to hell with my crippling homophobia._

Castiel walked out of the bathroom, still zipping up his pants, and Dean practically jumped to get him to stop. "Come here," he said, and pulled his arm so he was sitting with him on the couch. "Don't – don't zip that up," Dean said, his voice shaking.

"I want you to – I want you to show me." Dean said.

"Show you what, Dean?"

"What you learned. Show me everything you learned. And show me now, dammit."

Castiel smiled. He leaned in and kissed Dean, and his hand made its way slowly to Dean's lap, first gliding over Dean's knee and leg. Then Castiel found the aching organ and stroked it lightly through the fabric. It felt so good, but Dean wanted _more_. Responding to the pleading in Dean's eyes, Castiel pulled on the terrycloth belt holding the robe closed and untied it. Then, he moved opened both sides of the robe like a present, revealing Dean's hard cock.

Castiel kissed him again. "It's beautiful," he said, and then leaned over, and kissed the head of Dean's cock. And then easily slipped most of it into his mouth, as if it were the most natural thing for him to do in the world. He proceeded to give him a blow job, and there was nothing tentative about it, he seemed to know _exactly _what he needed to do, not only _where, _but _when_ as well.

And watching Cas kiss, lick, suck and engulf his cock in his mouth over and over, along with the sensations, was too incredible. "I'm going to come, Cas," he warned. "I don't know if you want to swallow it, but I'm going to come."

Castiel didn't move. Dean shot his load straight into Castiel's eager mouth, and it was one of the best orgasms he'd ever had. After panting a few times, Dean said, "I gotta do something for you."

"Oh, you will," Castiel said, and he unzipped his pants, pulled them off, threw his briefs down as well, pulled his t-shirt off as well, and then stood there, gloriously naked in front of Dean, with a raging hard on.

"Oh my god," Was all Dean could manage to say. It felt like every Christmas and birthday wrapped into one. Cas was _fucking hot as hell _and he couldn't wait to do things to him.

"You said to show you everything. Get on the bed."

Dean stood up, pulled off the rest of his robe and threw it on the floor. He got onto the squeaky bed and Castiel followed.

"You will need to get on your hands and knees for me to be able to demonstrate what I have learned," Castiel said, as he reached down towards his duffel bag that was next to the bed.

"Oh my god." Dean said again. He complied, thinking this is it. I'm going to get fucked up the ass, and doggy-style, while I'm at it. But he was intensely curious and hoping Castiel found as much pleasure as he had given Dean.

Castiel's face popped back up into view, and he had a condom and K-Y jelly in his hand.

"Damn, you're prepared," Dean said.

"Can you imagine if I wasn't?" Castiel said, sitting down and opening the condom wrapper.

"Don't want to," Dean muttered gratefully. "Is this really your favorite position?"

"It was the position used to teach me how to stimulate the prostate. Let me demonstrate." Castiel applied a generous dose of K-Y to his condom-covered cock, and then straddled the back of Dean. Dean braced himself, expecting pain.

But amazingly, he didn't feel any. Castiel again knew what he was doing. He slowly slid the tip of his cock into Dean, over and over, each time going in just a little further. The most Dean felt in the realm of pain was a pinch here and there, and pressure.

After awhile, Castiel was full-on fucking Dean, and moaning in pleasure while he was at it. He'd found Dean's prostate and Dean was in goddamn heaven even though he'd already climaxed. The feeling was amazing, and knowing it was Cas doing it, was so much more than the icing on the cake. The fucking was the icing, Castiel himself was the damn cake. Knowing too that they were doing this in broad daylight, with the window curtains open, was a turn-on as well. Castiel finally came, grinding his prostate into Dean so hard he thought he was going to explode. His cock had grown back to full length.

"Wow, you really knew what you were doing," Dean said. "What else did you learn?"

Castiel turned Dean around so he was lying on his back. "That's pretty much what I learned. Remember I said I saved some things for you? Well, I gave him a blow job so I could learn how to do it. And I…ah…I fucked him the way we just fucked so I could learn that too. But I refused to let him do more. He wanted to give me a blow job and I refused. Also I refused to let him enter me. I wanted to save my first time, at least with something, for you. Plus he explained how we could actually do the fucking part face to face. He wanted to show me, but I said no, I would wait and learn with Dean together."

Dean was a loss for words for a few moments. The fact that Castiel had saved himself for Dean like that, even when it might have never happened - he was touched and grateful and horny as hell. He managed to stammer out, "Wanna try learning now? My cock's about ready to explode as it is. Get under me, and we'll try it."

"Don't forget the lube and condom," Castiel said, and Dean laughed. "He trained you well. And I'm fucking glad he didn't get all of you. Because _I _want you, Cas. I don't know why it took me this long to get it out in the open, but goddamn it I _want you so bad_."

"I'm an angel, Dean. Well, I was. I'm used to things needing to unfold in a certain way, in a certain timeframe."

"Were you really going to leave? If I didn't – make a move?" Dean said as he greased himself up.

"Yes, it would have been appropriate."

"Well thank god I got my head out of the clouds in time. Because I fucking don't want you to leave, _ever_, Cas."

"You sure say fuck a lot."

"Well," Dean said, leaning in for a kiss, "I'm going to fuck you silly right now. But tell me what to do. Apparently I'm a virgin all over again, and this is embarrassing."

Castiel kissed him back. He spread his legs and guided Dean's cock down to his opening. Dean slowly worked his way in and before he knew it, he was lying right on top of Castiel, fucking him and kissing him with their arms wrapped around each other. And if Dean had already thought Castiel's gruff voice was sexy (he had), it was even sexier when Castiel was moaning Dean's name in the throes of pleasure. Dean was finally doing it, he was making love to Castiel, and it didn't feel weird at all, it felt _right_.

THE END

_Epilogue_

_Dean and Castiel spent the rest of the week living like honeymooners. They were both greatly pleased with the different ways available to please one another. Dean did just fine giving Cas his first blow job, even though he was nervous about it. Before he knew it, he was just as much a pro as Cas, and it did help that Dean _knew_ what felt good to a cock._

_They drove out together to meet Sam at Stanford, and drove into the wild blue yonder to start one of many hunting trips. Together. And Sam didn't mind one bit. _


End file.
